When the Bough Breaks
by Nonnie
Summary: The lives and loves of the team are shattered by a devastating murder linked to Tim Speedle.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer - I don't own CSI:Miami or any of the characters, just toying with each their emotions for a bit.

Summary - the lives and loves of the team are

shattered by a devastating murder linked to Tim Speedle.

A/N: I am laid up with a bad back and have been watching the CSI: Miami rerun marathons on WEtv. I've had this story line in my head for years but have never had the chance to write it down. I hope you all enjoy. It's been quite a while since I've posted anything.

Prolouge

"It is with a heavy heart that I announce one of Miami Dade Police's distinguished detectives, Brooke Evans and her unborn child, were found viciously murdered this morning in her home..." the police commissioner stated flatly from behind the podium bearing the MDPD's crest, the mid-day sun reflecting from his bald head as he stood on the steps of the police headquarters.

Inside, Callie Duquesne brushed the tears streaming down her cheeks with her fingers and turned from the television screen in Hortatio's office to sink into Eric Delko's waiting arms. Somewhere deep in the recesses of his grief-addled mind, he registered the sobs that were quickly overtaking her petite form and tightened his grip on her. "Who did this, H?" he barely whispered.

"I wish I had an answer for you," the red-headed lieutenant said sadly. He glanced over at the black leather couch in his office to find his medical examiner in a state of shock. He closed his eyes and swallowed hard, defining the myriad of emotions swirling in his head. Crushing sorrow from losing the detective. Intense anger, even resentment, that his team, his true family, were devastated once again. Regret that he wasn't able to stop the unimaginable horror that had ripped his life, his heart, apart at the seams.

"We..." He began, determinedly ordering his voice not to break, "we can take peace in the knowledge that they're together now."

"Hortatio."

He turned his attention back to Calleigh, offering a quiet "hmm" in acknowledgement.

"No," she sighed, still wrapped in Eric's strong arms. "That's the baby's name. Horatio Alexander Speedle."


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer - I don't own CSI: Miami or any of the characters, just toying with their emotions for a bit.

Summary - the lives and loves of the team are shattered by a devastating murder linked to Tim Speedle.

18 months earlier

Horatio and Speed rolled up at their latest crime scene, Speed taking his obligatory deep breath and blowing out a long sigh before allowing his boots to land on the gravel below his feet. It was one of the days he just _loved_ \- sun shining bright in his eyes, burning his nose and stagnant heat and humidity so thick he could easily slice through them with the blade of his knife. He cursed the MDPD's dress policy requiring long-sleeve shirts for male employees under his breath.

He grabbed his kit out of the back of the Hummer and slammed the door behind him before joining his boss on the short walk down the driveway to the seemingly abandoned house where patrol officers had found a dead body an hour earlier. Frank Tripp lifted himself off the trunk of his patrol car as they approached and waved to someone else to join him before he greeted the CSIs.

Tim barely registered the presence of an unknown woman before Frank began to introduce them. "Lieutenant Horatio Caine, Detective Tim Speedle, I'd like you to meet Brooke Evans. Transfer from D.C.," Tripp continued as Horatio reached out to shake the blonde's hand. "She'll be assigned to Homicide, our unit."

"Pleasure," she answered as she shook the hand Tim had offered. It was only when he realized she was smiling at him did he stop and take stock of young detective before him. And he quickly found himself blown away - Brooke Evans was gorgeous - she was nearly as tall as him in her heeled boots. Her long, dark blonde hair flowed over the shoulders of her light ivory suit jacket. He was jealous that she didn't seem to be suffering in the oppressive heat like he was. Pretty impressive for a transfer from D.C., he thought. As it registered in his brain that he couldn't see her eyes due to her sunglasses, she removed them, allowing to him to see they were a dark hazel. He managed a quick smile back at her before dropping her hand and addressing Tripp. "Whadda we got, Frank?"

The elder detective eyed him curiously. "As I was in the _middle_ of telling Horatio, dispatch took a call from a concerned citizen who heard gunshots coming from this house. Guy knew there wasn't supposed to be anyone living here, so he thought that was suspicious. Patrol rolled out, found the victim with a gunshot wound to the head." Speed silently cursed himself for getting lost in looking at Brooke and not paying attention.

"You been in yet?" Horatio questioned. Brooke shook her head and answered with a smile and Frank's trademark quip, "just waiting for you guys."

"Teaching her a little too well there, Frank?" Horatio teased. Frank gave a soft chuckle. "Can't help it if the girl is good," he retorted.

Brooke instinctively hung back just a bit, allowing the group to enter the crime scene in order of rank - the lieutenant first, then Tripp, Speed and herself. Whether she knew it or not, she was impressing his boss left and right. Him too, if he was completely honest with himself. As Frank and Horatio moved to the left side of the victim, he and Brooke veered to the right. "So," she whispered to him, "Tripp's been telling me how Miami is different from D.C., I mean, you're a full blown detective, right?"

"That is correct," Speed answered, kneeling and opening his kit to procure him camera.

"Admittedly odd, but cool, I guess," she surmised with a shrug. "Do me a favor and take pity on the new girl?"

He cut his dark eyes at her with a confused expression. "How so?" he asked.

She grinned at him again. "Smack me if I start stepping on anyone's toes or overstepping my bounds."

"Wearing those boots?" he teased, "You'd, uh, break my foot, so...don't worry. You'll know when I scream in pain."

She laughed silently and smirked at him while shaking her head. He swallowed his own laugh and turned his attention and camera to the victim.

Several hours later, with all of his initial investigations completed, he snapped the lid on his kit and carted it out to the Hummer Horatio had left when he'd disappeared with Tripp earlier. He yanked open the drivers side door, ready to crank up the AC and cool off. As he shut the door, he heard tapping on the passenger side window. He looked over and found Brooke on the other side. He rolled down the window, offering an unfairly curt "What?"

"Need another of those favors," she answered slightly timidly. "Tripp abandoned me."

She couldn't see him roll his eyes behind his sunglasses. "Get in," he replied.

"Thanks," she said gratefully, climbing in beside him and quickly buckling up, sensing his urge to depart the crime scene as soon as possible.

He u-turned in the driveway and proceeded down the gravel path back to the main highway. "He does that...Frank, I mean," Speed finally offered as he turned onto the highway. "Start bringing your own car."

"I will do that," she replied with a nod, "when they assign me one."

They continued driving in silence until Tim felt the unusual urge to make conversation with the new detective. He glanced over at her before speaking, finding her silently mouthing the words to the song he had on the radio.

"So, uh," he began softly, slightly startling her, "you transferred from DCPD?"

"Yup," she answered easily with a nod.

He waited for an explanation that didn't come. "Why?" he finally prodded.

"Oh, um, I was born and raised here. Sick of DC winters," she replied.

He nod in understanding. As much as he hated the summer heat, he didn't miss New York winters one iota. "Family here?" he questioned.

"No," she shook her head. "They oddly like DC winters. I have friends here, though."

He mentally checked off another thing they seemed to have in common - hate winter, not terribly talkative, bit of a loner. "Friends are good," he answered unconsciously, then scrunched his face as he registered the lameness of his answer.

She cut her eyes at him with a raised eyebrow and regarded him for a moment before answering "Okay..."

They drove the rest of the trip back to headquarters in silence. He'd glance over at her every once in a while, the move cloaked in the action of having to look left and right while driving. She looked as awkward and uncomfortable as he felt. He whipped into a spot near the entrance and put the SUV in park. She hopped out quickly, finally making eye contact with him again as she addressed him. "Thanks for the lift," she said genuinely, offering a soft smile with her thanks.

He nod once at her. "Later," he answered, returning the smile. She shut the passenger door and beat a hasty retreat into the offices. He collected his kit and made his way into the building, stopping to check for any messages at the front desk before finding himself accosted by his best friend. "Soooo..." Eric drawled, sidling up to him, "I hear there is a hot new detective and you are the lucky bastard who gets to work with her first."

Speed rolled his eyes and groaned. "Yes, her name is Brooke Evans. Transfer from DC."

"Is she as hot as everybody is saying?"

He sighed impatiently. "Yeah, Delko, I guess so. I haven't heard what anyone has said. She's..." he yanked open the door to the print lab and suddenly found himself unable to finish his sentence.

Delko turned to find his best friend seemingly staring off into space. "Oh shit," he laughed with a huge grin. "You _like_ her!"

"I..." Speed scoffed, shaking his head. "I have a couple hundred pictures to print, so if you'd let me, I'm sure the victim would be grateful."

Eric continued to grin knowingly. "Yeah, okay, buddy." He clapped Tim on the shoulder before snickering his way out the door.

He dropped his kit heavily onto the table and blew out a long sigh. He rested his hands on the counter and shook his head again. Yeah...he liked her. Dammit.

TBC...


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer - I don't own CSI: Miami or any of the characters, just toying with their emotions for a bit.

Summary - the lives and loves of the team are shattered by a devastating murder linked to Tim Speedle.

Speed's head shot up as he heard laughter outside the trace lab. He looked past the glass to find Eric and Brooke having a seemingly _very_ friendly conversation. As he silently began plotting his best friend's eminent demise, she must have felt his eyes on her, because she turned to look at him, offering him a soft smile, a wave of her hand and an unheard "hi". He smiled back before returning his attention to the mold sample from their crime scene a week prior. Frank Tripp seemed to be thoroughly enjoying having a "rookie", sending Brooke over to the lab constantly in search of updates on evidence. Speed surmised she'd probably spent more time on his side of the building than hers.

He heard Eric and Brooke bid each other goodbye and turned his eyes to the hallway again, finding Eric standing just behind Brooke grinning at him and giving him two big thumbs up. Her hand was on the door handle, she was coming into the lab. He blew out a steadying breath.

"Hey," she said brightly as she pushed the door open. "What's so interesting on that slide?"

"Dictyostelium discoideum," he answered dramatically, not bothering to look up from the microscope.

Brooke did an involuntary shiver that caught his attention and he started to laugh. "I actually know that's mold. Blech." she replied with a disgusted expression.

"Slime mold, to be specific," he answered. "You wanna look?"

She narrowed her eyes at him. "I'll pass, but it's sweet of you to offer."

"Your loss," he answered sarcastically. "If we are very, very lucky, this mold could crack our case wide open."

"How so?" she questioned, her interest obviously peaked.

"Mold is kind of like DNA," he explained. "If we can find a sample on our shooter, we can match it and bam, got our killer."

She scoffed. "Yeah, you make it sound soooo easy, Tim." He fought the grin threatening to curl the left side of his lip. So far, she hadn't called him Speed and he really liked that. Granted, it was possible she didn't even know his nickname, but he hoped she'd either made a choice not to call him what everyone else did or that "Tim" would be so ingrained in her profile of him that she'd never slip into the habit.

"Hey, we might get lucky," he surmised, then did a mental cringe at the double entendre. If she noticed, she thankfully ignored it. "So we're looking for a slimy, moldy shooter," she sighed. "Hundred and ten degree heat, ninety-nine percent humidity, that's gonna narrow it right down to...everyone in the city."

"Lemme know if you need any help," he offered, scratching down some notes on a pad of paper.

"You bet," she answered before turning from him to head out the door. She grabbed the handle and yanked it open before stopping and turning back toward him. "Hey, I'll see you tonight, k?"

He found himself back to plotting Eric's murder. "Tonight?" he barely choked out, his eyes wide. _Tonight_ , he, Eric and Calleigh were checking out a new local bar around the corner. Last he'd checked, Brooke hadn't been invited. He mentally cursed himself for the horrified expression that immediately crossed her beautiful face. "Yeah," she offered with an explanatory wave, "Eric invited me. I'm sorry, I thought you knew. I'll tell him no."

"No," he answered quickly. "No, you should come," he said with a nod. "I'd, uh, I'd really like it if you did."

She smiled softly at him. "Okay," she answered with a quick nod. He grinned at her as she backed out of the lab. She waved at him again before retreating down the hall. With Brooke out of sight, he let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding and yanked his cell phone out of his pocket. He fired off a quick text to his best friend. "YOU are a fucking DEAD MAN." Thirty seconds later, he heard Eric's laughter from the lab next door. Interfering jackass.

Hours later, after he'd nearly choked to death on the beer he was drinking when she walked into the bar wearing a turquoise blue satin halter top and jeans and he'd learned they had far more in common than he'd realized - beer loosens their lips, they both went to Columbia (she after he'd departed for Miami), and that they were both allergic to down - he stumbled out of the cab behind Brooke, shouting a quick "be right back" to his friends. "Oooooh," he could hear Calleigh drunkenly laugh behind him. "Get your girl, Casanova," Eric teased.

He jogged up to Brooke, who was now just slightly further down the block toward, he assumed, her apartment. "Hey, lemme walk you to your door."

She turned and grinned brilliantly at him. "What a gentleman," she answered sweetly.

He followed her up the stairs outside her walk-up and waited as she unlocked the door. She turned to face him and he found himself dangerously close to her cherry colored lips. He swallowed hard, an action not lost on the detective. "I had a really good time tonight, Tim," she said, her eyes sparkling from the streetlight in front of her.

"I did too," he answered honestly. He leaned in just a tiny bit before her hand landed squarely on his chest, stopping his progression. "Tim," she said, her voice tinged with regret. He looked up to find sadness had replaced the sparkle in her eyes. "I can't."

He recoiled from her hand and shrugged. "S'okay," he lied, offering her a fake smile.

"No," she sighed and reached for his shoulder as he began to turn away from her. "I _really_ like you, but..." he looked over his shoulder at her and waited for her to continue. Her face was tilted to the concrete stoop, her eyes closed. When she finally looked back up at him, he could swear her eyes were wet with unshed tears. "I've only been on the job here a week. It just...it feels too soon."

He nod in understanding. "S'okay," he said again, this time truthfully. He turned toward her and placed a hand on her hip. He leaned in again, this time placing a chaste kiss on her cheek. Her sharp intake of breath certainly wasn't lost on _him_.

"See you tomorrow?" he asked quietly, his voice deep and husky from the electricity he'd felt course through his body the moment his lips touched her skin. "It actually _is_ tomorrow," she teased with a soft chuckle. He playfully narrowed his eyes at her. "Smart ass," he answered with a smirk, eliciting a full blown laugh from Brooke. "Later," she said quietly. He longed to reach out and kiss her again, even if just on the cheek. Instead he took a deep breath. "Later," he agreed, finally turning from her and heading down the stairs and back out to the street toward the cab. He cast a glance back toward her apartment and found her watching him. He waved goodbye before climbing into the cab. By the time it sped past her doorway, she was gone.

An hour later, he woke with a start to pounding on his front door. He knew it couldn't be Eric, unless the younger man had decided he hadn't tortured Speed quite enough about Brooke on the ride home. He was really starting to develop a solid plan for ridding himself of his best friend. He peered through the peephole on his front door into the hallway of his apartment building. Brooke. What the hell was she doing here at 2:06 in the morning? He opened the door, and stared at her, absolutely stunned that she was standing there. He wondered how she knew where he lived. "Eric," she answered his unasked question with a guilty and very embarrassed half-smile. Her attire mirrored his own - a t-shirt and cotton pajama pants.

"What are you doing here, Brooke?" he asked gently. She pursed her lips together and closed her eyes. When she opened them again, her resolve seemed set. "There was something I needed to tell you," she answered.

"Okay," he answered, "what is it?" he asked curiously.

She stepped over the threshold of his front door and reached for the hem of his t-shirt, pulling him closer to her. In the tennis shoes she was wearing, she was a good couple of inches shorter than him. She stood on her tiptoes and brought her face within a breath of his. His heart began racing even faster than it already had been, his mind swirling with fantasies of how this moment might end. She tilted her head just slightly, grazing his lips with her own. He heard himself groan, his body instinctively arched into hers and his arm swept around her waist, securing her tightly against him.

She ran the hands he'd pinned between them when he reached for her up his chest and around his neck. The glint he then found in her eyes was positively lascivious...

"Screw propriety, I want you," she said quietly before finally crashing her lips against his.

TBC...


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer - I don't own CSI: Miami or any of the characters, just toying with their emotions for a bit.

Summary - the lives and loves of the team are shattered by a devastating murder linked to Tim Speedle.

* * *

He groaned loudly as his alarm clock began buzzing, the shrill, annoying sound echoing through his small bedroom. He reached over to slap it off but found his progress blocked by a very warm, naked body. The groan was replaced with a grin as their activities last night began replaying on a loop in his brain.

Before he could pause them long enough to shut the wretched machine off, Brooke's hand darted out from under the covers, slapped around on his nightstand and silenced the buzzing. He slipped one hand under his pillow and snaked the other around her waist, spooning himself into her back.

"Good morning, beautiful," he whispered into her ear.

Her eyes remained closed, but he was rewarded with a brilliant, although very sleepy, smile. "Good morning," she answered, snuggling deeper into his embrace.

He kissed her bare shoulder. "What time you gotta go in?" he asked, hoping her answer matched his.

"Ten," she answered. He glanced up at the clock. It was 7:02. He could keep her in his arms a little longer.

"Me too," he replied, bracing his body on the arm under his pillow as he raised up long enough to shut the machine off for good.

She turned beneath him to lay on her back, the navy sheet just barely covering the swells of her breasts. It was the most erotic thing he'd ever seen. This goddess of a woman had shown up on his doorstep last night, dropped any and all doubts, fears and inhibitions she might have had at becoming involved with him and dove in, head first. And God, did it feel right. Nothing in his life had ever felt like _this_.

He came to rest hovering over her, one arm extended on either side of her head, his legs between hers. He dipped his head down and kissed her gently. The sheet had fallen away when he'd moved over her and his chest brushed against hers. As the kiss deepened, her arms first encircled his waist and before he'd even realized it, one hand was in his hair, the other was on his backside, pushing his pelvis closer to where she wanted him. He broke the kiss and grinned at her, thrilled when she returned the gesture. He rested his weight on his left arm and just drank in the beauty beneath him.

"What?" she asked curiously.

"Nothing," he answered with a gentle shake of his head. "You're just gorgeous. And beyond sexy. And, well, here."

She smiled at him again, her cheeks flushed by his compliments. "This is good, isn't it?" she asked quietly.

He kissed her again; letting his lips longer softly on hers. He pulled away for only a second to grin at her. "Baby, this is _so_ good, we are flat-ass screwed." She laughed heartedly before pulling him down to kiss her.

She blew through the door of the trace lab several hours later. "C'mon, we gotta go!" she exclaimed.

"Go where?" he questioned.

"Suspect. Chop chop!" she yelled as she emerged back into the hall. "And bring your keys!" she shouted over her shoulder.

He shook his head in dismay - still hadn't been assigned her own car. Speed shed his blue lab coat, dropped it on a stool and followed her. He punched in his security number to access his kit and made a short sprint to the lab's front desk to secure keys to one of the Hummers. She was standing in front of the elevator, pacing with her phone to her ear as she secured back-up. He punched the down button and waited for the doors to open.

They hurried down the front steps, then through the parking lot before hopping into the vehicle he'd been assigned. The engine roared to life and Tim moved to put the hummer in reverse when he felt Brooke's hand on his. "Hang on," she said, leaning over the central console. He turned his attention toward her and found her eyes sparkling with mischief. She tilted her head and ran her hand through his hair. He grinned, closing the space between them and meeting her lips with his own. The kiss quickly grew heated, with Brooke softly moaning and his hand sliding under the silk top she was wearing, clutching her side and squeezing it to let her know just how badly he wanted her again.

When they broke apart for air, he narrowed his eyes at her. "Is there really a suspect, or did you just want to jump me in a police car?" he asked suspiciously. She smacked a kiss on his lips before responding.

"Both are true," she said with a grin. "Just had to get that out of my system." She settled back into her seat and put her seatbelt on. Tim took this to mean it was time to roll.

"Suspect's name is Marvin Tillman," she said as he reversed the vehicle and emerged into the parking lot. "Prison records show he was our vic's cell mate. Paroled less than a month ago and get this, he works at the 5th street marina." "Marinas - slime mold central," he replied dramatically.

He took a few moments to memorize the suspect's face before the couple exited the vehicle at the marina. She saw him almost immediately and motioned for Tim.

"Marvin Tillman?" She asked the man standing just at the side of an open shipping container waiting to receive another unloaded box from a fellow employee. Tim found himself ready to shoot or punch Tillman for the way he was undressing Brooke with his eyes.

"Well, hello," the man grinned, revealing a smile missing one of this front teeth. "What can I do ya for?"

"We have some questions about the murder of your former cell mate, Andy deSola." Marvin's smile was suddenly gone, as was he, off in a desperate run down the dock.

"Fuuuccckkk," Brooke drawled before taking off after him. "I hate foot pursuits!"

Tim launched himself into action, sprinting to catch her before barely passing her. They could see Tillman about 70 yards ahead of them when he reached into his back waistband and drew a gun. He turned slightly and fired at them. Tim grabbed Brooke and dove behind another container.

"You ok?" he demanded.

She nodded her head and pulled her weapon. "Yeah, you?"

"Yeah, yeah, good." He pulled his own gun and cocked it once.

"You go right, I go left," she said quickly. They took off again in opposite directions, an idea he was certainly not a fan of.

As he ran toward the end of the marina, he heard someone running behind him. He glanced over his shoulder to find one of their backup officers. "Stop there in case he doubles back," Tim yelled.

He heard two more gunshots as he reached the last container and sped up, wanting to cut Tillman off and reunite with his partner as quickly as possible. He rounded the corner of the container and found Brooke and the other backup officer on top of a struggling Tillman.

"Marvin Tillman," she bellowed, shoving her knee deep into the suspect's back to limit his movement so she could cuff him, "you are under arrest for aggravated assault of a police officer, violating parole by possessing a lethal weapon and suspicion of murder. You have the right to remain silent..."

Tillman groaned continually in protest of the knee on his spine till she yanked him upright. The officer who had run in Tim's direction emerged from the middle of the rows of containers and quickly ran to aide his partner with the highly agitated suspect. It was only then Speed noticed the bullet wound on Tillman's left shoulder.

As the officers hauled him away, Tim hauled Brooke between two containers. He pinned her against the side and began inspecting her for bullet holes.

She watched him in amusement. "I'm fine, Tim," she said with a laugh.

His hand flew into her hair before he crushed his mouth onto hers, kissing her deeply, desperately, and with an almost brutal intensity he didn't realize even existed inside him.

She'd been a distinguished officer and detective in Washington long before he met her, but he knew if this was the last time she was _ever_ under fire, he'd be more than okay with that.

Their hands were everywhere...touching, exploring. When he'd completed his tactile reaffirmation that nothing had marred the perfect alabaster skin he'd been privileged to see, caress and memorize last night, he released her and pressed his forehead against hers.

"I can feel that," he said with a smirk when his emotions cooled a bit and his heart had resumed a somewhat normal rhythm. "Ready to collect some mold?" he teased, taking a few steps away and extending his hand.

She laughed, a sound that was quickly becoming one of his favorites. "Wow, you really know the way right into a girl's heart there, babe."

TBC...


End file.
